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If I Were an Evil Overlord

Friesner Esther M. (EN), Nye Jody Lynn (EN), Rusch Kristine Kathryn (EN), Huff Tanya Sue (EN), Greenberg Martin Harry (EN), Smith Dean Wesley (EN), Davis Russel (EN), Bischoff David (EN), Roman Steven A. (EN), Wilson David Niall (EN), York Steven J. (EN), Hoffman Nina Kiriki (EN)

Martin H Greenberg, Russel Davis, Esther Friesner, David Bischoff, Jody Ly

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

INTRODUCTION

Russell Davis

In the movie The Return of the Jedi, at the climax of the film (WARNING: SPOILER ALERT-IF YOU ARE ONE OF THE TWELVE PEOPLE ON EARTH WHO HASN’T SEEN THIS MOVIE, THE FOLLOWING MAY WRECK IT FOR YOU), with Luke Skywalker is on his back, the Emperor standing over him and shooting cool bolts of Force lightning into his body. Darth Vader stands nearby watching his son die. It’s over for the Jedi and the Rebel Alliance. Evil has won. Then Vader allows sentimentality to get the better of him and he picks up the Emperor and throws him down a bottomless pit to his death.

I have to admit that when Vader grabbed the Emperor, one of the first thoughts that ran through my mind was, Don’t do it, you fool! You see, the sad truth is that I kind of like rooting for the bad guy.

I have a strong background in role-playing games, particularly fantasy role-playing games, and as a player character, I’ve crossed paths with i

The concept of a list of things one might consider doing should one, in fact, become an Evil Overlord has been around a long time. It’s been one of the longest ru

It’s worth noting that the “Evil Overlord List” by Peter Anspach is certainly the most popular and widely known of these lists, though by no means the only one, nor even the first one. In the dim, dark year of 1984, a group of friends and I developed a very similar list called “The Rules of Oblivion,” which took to heart such statements as, “Take nothing for granted. That rabbit may be armed.”

For this anthology, we challenged fourteen of today’s best authors to come up with a story about an Evil Overlord and what he or she (not all Evil Overlords are men) should consider doing to protect themselves and their dark realms. Many writers, such as Esther Friesner and David Bischoff, came through with enjoyable tales featuring familiar characters and offering plenty of laughs. Others, like David Niall Wilson and Steve Roman, took a more serious approach-which has, I admit, left me wondering what they might be plotting next.

But no matter how a writer approached the subject, as the editor (the ultimate Evil Overlord in this anthology, one might say), I got the pleasure of reading and reviewing them all… and now I get the added pleasure of sharing them with you. In short, the pleasure is all mine, but I hope it will be yours, too.

Enjoy!

– Russell Davis

Sierra Vista, Arizona

IF LOOKS COULD KILL by Esther Friesner

“Oh, shut up,” said Prince Lorimel, tossing his long, golden hair in a peevish ma

It was a bad idea, under the circumstances. The manacles holding his slender-yet-powerful arms were ancient oxidized relics of the previous owner of Castle Bonecrack. (In fact, up until the moment of Prince Lorimel’s incarceration, they had held the last few skeletal remnants of the previous owner of Castle Bonecrack, per orders of the current management of said premises.) They did their job well enough, but the wear and tear of centuries-to say nothing of the corrosive teardrops of a succession of luckless prisoners-had roughened the iron with colonies of thorny rust that snared any soft and silky thing unfortunate enough to brush against them.

Case in soft-and-silky point: A handsome elf prince’s glorious, gossamer hair.

Result: “OW! This is all your fault, Gudge.”

“Aw, now, Master m’lud Lorimel, don’t ’ee be takin’ on so, naow.” The coarse yet good-natured voice of Prince Lorimel’s companion-in-shackles (though not comrade-in-arms) echoed through the foul dungeon. It was this same voice, nattering about how stone walls did not a prison make, that had provoked the prince’s outburst, with concomitant hair-tossing, in the first place. “I di’n’t do nowt t’ yer Worship’s purty hair, nay. See, ’tis as I told yer Reverence’s noble pa, lo these many turns agone, ‘The best thing a wise elf prince can do fer hisself when it so happens as he’s misstepped matters and ended up in some evil overlord’s dungeon is bide his time all still an’ quiet-like, waiting fer what must come.’ Yer Eminence’ll notice that still part, as means yer not to move more’n needful, ’cos squirmin’ about’ll only-Well, I expect yer Highness has found that out fer yerself already, what with yer purty goldy hair all of a tangle and-”

“Gudge?” Prince Lorimel interrupted.

“Aye, m’lud?”

“Shut up.”

Sweet silence descended upon the drear and dreadful dungeon once more.

It was not to last, of course. Prince Lorimel was an elf, right enough, and as such, immortal. The long lines of the years spilling into centuries and even eons gave the elves the rare ability to wrap the glowing silence of their own deep thoughts around them like the comforting warmth of a well-loved blanket. Also, most elves ran out of really interesting conversation before they hit their three hundredth birthday.

But the prince’s retainer and fellow captive, the being known as Gudge of Willowstone-Thickly, was not an elf at all. What he was, was open to some debate among those wizards who found fascination in such blood-and-breeding puzzles. Evidence pointed to the short, fubsy, somewhat swarthy fellow having a mix of troll and brownie ancestry, seasoned lightly with a bit of pixie (on account of his ill-governed tongue), and perhaps a soupc¸on of goblin. All of this, however, was strictly on his unknown father’s side. His mother was a full-blooded human girl who really should have been a bit more circumspect in her choice of Midsummer’s Eve companions. From a midnight frolic between the rows of barley, Gudge of Willowstone-Thickly took his life’s begi